The first time I swam underwater all by myself, I was at the end of a pier on seventh street beach in Crystal Lake in Frankfort, Michigan. I was swimming with a slightly older blonde-haired boy. I have no idea who he was. I think I was five-years-old. I told him I could swim underwater. He told me I couldn't. I said, "yes, I can." I didn't really know I could but my dad had been trying to teach me to swim since I was born so I thought I probably could if I tried hard enough. He said he dared me to do it. So I did. I just went under the water and I held my breath and I kept my eyes wide open and I loved that feeling. I loved that feeling more than any feeling since (before today).

A few years ago, while we were out at a restaurant for my birthday, I caught my daughter Lucy shutting her eyes really tight and holding her breath and I said, "Lu, what on earth are you doing?" and she said, "I'm trying to become a Mermaid." We had just been talking about Mermaids and whether they are real or not. I have a poet's sense of what's "real" and what's "not real" so, though I'm sure many parents would disagree with this tactic, I don't really tell my kids that anything isn't real. If she wants to believe Mermaids are real, I'm going to let her because her understanding of the words "real" and "reality" will change multiple times as she matures and within certain definitions of those words (yes, perhaps the more metaphorical), Mermaids are real.

A mermaid tail!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

the only full-length mirror in our home is in my son's room and he has no overhead light -- thus, my first attempt at a Mermaid selfie was not especially successful

That same night that Lucy tried to turn herself into a Mermaid, I began researching mermaid tails. We had seen a girl on Frankfort Beach just the summer before in one so we knew someone, somewhere was making them and selling them and that you could actually swim in them. This research lead us to finfunmermaid.com which we are ridiculously huge fans of now. Lucy got her first mermaid tail last February, for her sixth birthday. I got mine for my Rebirth, at 40.

Is it absurd for a 40-year-old woman to dress and swim as a Mermaid? -- ooooh, you betcha! Ridiculous as all get out! Silly! Crazy! Frivolous! Maybe even a fair amount of Stupid. Now, ask me if I care... please... please, ask me.

Several years ago, a former student of mine posted something on Facebook about having sex with a Mermaid. He was expressing annoyance at how difficult it would be to have sex with a Mermaid. I was viscerally disturbed, even outraged, by this comment. He didn't mean it to be upsetting and I knew it at the time. I knew my reaction was weird

and difficult to explain and coming from some extremely personal place. I knew then, very suddenly, that my strong affinity for Mermaids had to do with how protected and strong and impossible to penetrate they seem. I knew that I loved Mermaids, in part, because they offered me a model of survival. Mermaids are not victims. They are fearless and fierce and cunning and wise and completely capable. They also have no idea what the word shame means.

When a little girl or a grown woman or any woman-child in between those two stages is victimized, the main lesson they are taught is shame. Be ashamed of your body. Be ashamed of your desire. Be ashamed of who you are. Be ashamed of what you are. Be ashamed of what you think. Be ashamed of what you know. And when you are taught that much shame, it is impossible to love or trust yourself and if you can't love or trust yourself, you can't love or trust anyone else. And that, my friends, is hell on earth. No love and no trust. Hell. On. Earth.

Mermaids are shameless creatures. I simply can't help it.

Well... a Mermaid has no concept of shame because a Mermaid has no concept of not loving herself and trusting herself completely. No need for anyone else's advice anymore, thank you. No need for anyone else to take care of her (I said "need" -- not "desire" -- A Mermaid may enjoy the feeling of being cared for -- but she does not "need" it to survive). Mermaids trust what they know, what they think, who they are. These are the qualities I have always been instinctively drawn to in Mermaids. This is why this silly, ridiculous, crazy, frivolous tail had to be part of my Rebirth. And swimming in it tonight only validated this fact. I felt strong, powerful, fast, free, beautiful, big, impenetrable, unstoppable. It just felt... right.

Oh, how I wish I could jump back in time and give that little five-year-old me a big hug and tell her that someday, everything would really -- REALLY -- be okay -- and that, mostly it would be okay because I would come to a place where okay didn't have to be happening outside of me for okay to be happening inside of me. I just had an abdominal hysterectomy, people! And during my recovery (but unrelated to it), things got fairly rough on the home front. Things have not been "okay" on the outside of me but, on the inside, it turns out, I'm just dandy... because... I am a REAL Mermaid.

Continue, dear dear friends and readers, to cook and eat and swim and salute the sun and rebirth yourselves shamelessly and with love, please...

We missed our Thursday night CSA veggie share pick-up this week so instead made the 40 minute drive to the farm itself to pick our own veggies this week.

Okay...

Here's where I'm supposed to say earthy spiritual things about how wholesome and grounding it is to pick one's own food right from dear old Mother Earth but, dear reader, don't hold your breath. Mostly I'm really concerned about my gorgeous sparkly mermaid pedicure being utterly destroyed. Oh right! Now I remember! One is not really supposed to farm in flip flops.

I remember because I was once the child of a man with many big, lush gardens and I was forced to pick those gardens. And recently I've felt fairly nostalgic for those gardens and that time and the knowledge I could've gotten from my parents that I didn't because I was a prissy brat. Well, guess what? I'm still pretty damned prissy, as it turns out. Good thing that today my son had the whole brat thing covered so I was forced to control that particular portion of my adorable self.

Of course, I AM thrilled to be able to cook and eat (with love) all these lovely organic locally grown green -- SO green -- veggies! But...I'm just saying that today, this second day of my rebirth taught me something important about myself. I love local, organic produce but someone else can pick it, thank you very much. And that works just fine because my husband and my daughter (except for the bugs) like picking just fine.

Know Thyself, right?

Yesterday, I celebrated my rebirth with a wax, a pedi, a new outfit & a night on the town. That's just the sort of thing a prissy QueenPrincess likes. Now...look at this mess...LOOK AT IT!

Blech. And this was not the first lesson I learned about myself today. The other took the better part of my morning to learn. When one is looking for a specific cheap item, one should not waste their time attempting to find it at garage sales. Because here's what happens: one buys a lot of shit one absolutely does not need then realizes one has wasted one's day driving through every neighborhood in one's small mid-Michigan town while one never found the original item one was seeking in the first fucking place. And this is another nostalgia thing. My mother LOVED garage sales. Good gravy, truly truly LOVED them, my friends. A day spent yard-saling was a perfect day for my mother. It used to drive me CRAZY! Now I think it's darn cute so I think I had it in my mind this morning that perhaps my mother had some hidden wisdom with regards to garage sales. I was ready to take advantage of that hidden wisdom this morning. But, um, no, there was no hidden wisdom. The woman just loved yard sales. Period. I love pedicures and big obnoxious earrings and Rob Lowe and reimagined fairy tales. There's no hidden wisdom in any of those things. It's just the weird little shit that makes me who I am, at least in part. Two valuable lessons in two days ain't too shabby. I don't do the picking. I don't do garage sales. I highly recommend doing a few things you've always romanticized and thought might be cool, or fun, or whatever and do them. See if they are as awesome as you thought they'd be or if there's a really good reason -- like it doesn't fit with any part of who you are -- that you haven't done it all along. Tonight, our children are both hosting friends (another brother/ sister pair) for a sleepover. I'm guessing tomorrow's lesson is going to be "I don't allow both kids to have a sleepover at my house on the same night." We'll see. Happy rebirthing, Team QueenPrincess! Cook, eat, look for everyday magic, celebrate your newness, and know yourselves WITH LOVE. Namaste, Your QP

During my recovery, I have become mildly obsessed with the new film Maleficent and with the entire mythology it has created around this classic character. If you know the film, you'll recognize this moment. If you don't, I simply can't bring myself to tell you what's happening here because it would spoil everything. But, this is how I feel right now. This moment is what the Team QueenPrincess Rebirth Experience is all about, baby. Whoooooo, baby! Let's go!

I am emerging from recovery (from major surgery that took place on June 25th) and I can feel it in every cell in my body. Everything is awakening. 25 days or so before the surgery, I summoned all of my minions (some I didn’t even realize I had) to help me create a Happiness Advantage in my life so that when cuttin’ time came, I’d have optimal levels of happy juices running through my body to protect me from whatever evil magic might try to take hold of me during or after the surgery. And it worked! It worked! Evil magic vanquished. Mojo reigns supreme! Team QueenPrincess came through with such flying colors that I believe if more of us, more of the time worked on building Mojo, along with muscle, and healthy habits, we would be an unstoppable wall of goodness in our own lives and the world. Therefore… Team QueenPrincess is not a thing of the past… Team QueenPrincess will shine on, my dears. And we shall create a world simply dripping in Mojo so that we have all of the energy we need to bust through every single day of our lives with rrrrrrrrrrgh – and on the days we are filled with less rrrrrrrrrgh, we have all of the energy we need to remind ourselves that it’s important to get out of bed every day. Are you ready? August, 2014 is officially the “Team QueenPrincess Rebirth Experience.” We all need renewal so let’s renew together. Here’s what you need to do: 1. Choose your role / title. If you’re new to Team QueenPrincess, start with “Cheerleader” or “Fan” or “Coach” or whatever floats your boat. If you’re not new, either stick with your old role and title or come up with a brand-spanking-new role and title. Perhaps you want to be “Sparkly Kitten, Knight of Darkness” or “Flapjack” – seriously, whatever works, but have some fun. Post your role and title to the QueenPrincessGypsy Mojo Facebook page. If you want to play along but want me to choose your role/ title for you... mwahhahahaha... I will be so very glad to do so, Beastie. And… remember… there can only be one QueenPrincess!

2. Each day – yes, EACH DAY (I’m rebirthing into someone who is consistent) I will post an inspirational quote for you, a little workout for you, and an assignment (that’s the fun part). You complete the assignments… if you want to… if they’re fun… if you think you’ll benefit from them. And ignore them if not. 3. Commit-ish yourself. Even though you are free to ignore every single thing I say or suggest, the Rebirth Experience will only work if you play along. Why do you need a “rebirth” this month? Or why do you feel you’re in the middle of a “rebirth”? You can post your “reason for rebirth” on the facebook site, send me a personal message about it, or just write it down in your own journal or think about it in your own sweet, adorable head. Even though it’s optional, commitment is key. August, 2014 is going to be an amazingly Mojo-filled month, friends and countrymen. Get on board.

So, on June 25th -- if you're just tuning in -- I had an abdominal hysterectomy. My number one goal in the past five weeks was simply to be nice to myself. Get stuff done -- don't get stuff done -- whatever. I already knew I was an "all or nothing" kind of gal so let me tell you something, when I do nothing... I do nothing really really well (of course!). I was pretty good at keeping track of my progress these first nine days and then guess what? the world stopped revolving completely around my recovery and life started happening around me and to me again. The past three weeks especially have brought some strange and scary personal issues with them that have really distracted me from focusing on my physical recovery. The physical recovery is still going very well though. I can easily walk up to three miles now -- have walked four but I wouldn't say "easily" and I'm doing some light yoga and very very light bodyweight exercises (ssshhh! don't tell the doctor). I really debated about posting the following home diaries. There's probably very little point to them -- but... I guess I feel compelled to post them for my fellow hysterectomy survivors, in case they are of any use/ hope/ solace/ etc... I have told myself many times that I have to go back and finish the story of these recovery days -- I can't just leave off at Day 9 -- but guess what? If I haven't written it yet, it's not going to be written. I've got better and bigger things to do. My whole reason for putting my body through this surgery was to get to the other side and start kicking ass (again) so that's the plan. No looking back.

And now... the continuing saga...

Day Three continued (hospital to home): While my nurse, Laurie, was wheeling me out of the door of the hospital, I ran into a male colleague from the Lifelong Wellness Division. He was very sweet. He helped me into my car, at Crystal’s urging, but I was horribly embarrassed by how weak I was and how giant my belly was. I looked, at this point, like I was about eight months pregnant – just because of the inflammation from the surgery. I had been concerned since the first day about this inflammation and swelling. It was very disconcerting to suddenly look and feel so pregnant after looking and feeling normal. Until this moment though, I was focused on how crappy it felt and not how crappy it looked. I realized then that the blow to my ego and vanity was going to be almost as hard to deal with as the physical pain. And in the middle of thinking about all of this, I completely forgot to call or text my husband to tell him I was on my way home. I had told him earlier that the doctor would let me go that day but then never updated him after that. I caught him very much by surprise and still in the middle of cleaning and readying the house when I got home. By the time I settled myself into my bed (which I did almost immediately), my pain had finally gotten to the point that I really needed to do something about it. My doctor already had me pick up a prescription of another milder narcotic before I even left for surgery so they were sitting right by my bed with a glass of water, just waiting for me. Hesitant to get all jacked up in the head again, I split one in half and took it, then, once again, entered hazy buzzy dream(ish)land. Twice during that druggy afternoon, I broke down into tears. Once, when Tim was helping me get out of bed to go to the bathroom. I couldn’t stand that he was seeing me look like this. Of course, he said something ridiculously amazing like, “it’s an honor to be here to help you through this” or something… and it didn’t matter. I still felt so damn ugly for a minute there. Then, I cried again when I got back into bed and all I kept thinking was, “I want my mom. I want my mom. I want my mom.” I felt the kind of physical depression moving into my head that has been there before when I’m not exercising regularly and I’m treating my body badly but this time I wasn’t overeating, I was just on my third day of taking a whole bunch of downers. That afternoon was the last time I took a narcotic for the pain. Since that afternoon, just three days after surgery, I have only taken Tylenol to help ease my pain from time to time. I’m not trying to say there is anything wrong with taking pain meds. For other people, there isn’t. If I could be one of those people, I would take them too. But I’m not. So, for me not taking pain meds after that third day has been a huge victory. Huge. A victory that has left me clear-headed enough to do the things I need to do to consciously heal myself right now. After a longish nap, Tim had to take the kids out of the house for something and he was going to have to leave me alone but just about that moment, Crystal called to check on me and I asked if she had the time to stop by and hang out. She did. I was relieved. I was feeling a little nervous about being left alone. We hung out on the couch, waiting for Tim and kids to return and she offered to take not only our kids for the evening but also our dog! Wow! When Tim returned he was pleasantly surprised to see our kids and dog whisked off for a night and day of fun on Sanford Lake (where Crystal lives) and we were left with a quiet, peaceful house. And after taking several deep breaths and talking for a little while about the weeks and months ahead, we spent our evening watching last season’s episodes of Californication, in bed, until I fell asleep. We didn’t get out of bed the next day until 11:30am. I haven’t slept in that long since before my son was born, 11 years ago. Thanks and Praise to Crystal for the best night and morning home from surgery I could possibly have imagined!

for the first time in six days, my hair isn't up in a bun!

Day Four: I began taking only Tylenol for pain. The swelling in my belly was already down to what looked like about four months pregnant at this point. I walked five times for 5 minutes at a time, up and down the sidewalk in front of the house. I moved about as fast as a real-life tortoise and that’s no metaphor. Tim and I enjoyed a very quiet day at home. I left the house for almost an entire hour while accompanying Tim on some errands. The kids and dog came back. Lucy sang me to sleep while holding my hand. Possibly the sweetest thing that has ever happened to me.

Day Five: Swelling in belly seemed almost non-existent this morning. I could look down and see all the way to my incision – instead of having to look up and over my belly to see it. And…Chocolate Chip pancake breakfast!!! Outside on the picnic table!!! Apparently this gave me just the strength I needed to blow dry and brush my hair after my shower! Huge milestone. I had to do it sitting down but I still got it done and felt half-pretty for the first time in five days. I continued to do my walking drills. A friend messaged me out of the blue and offered to take kids to the pool for a few hours! Whoo-hoooooo! By the end of the day, tummy was inflamed again but still not nearly as bad as it was.

chocolate chip pancake day!

Day Six: Walked my sidewalk sprints again – this time just a touch faster than the days before. And, I COOKED!!!! I cooked! I COOKED!!!! By the end of the day though, I knew I had stood for too long in the kitchen. I probably moved around the kitchen, cooking, for about an hour and a half. Pain was kind of rough after that but also seemed to subside as soon as I laid down and put a coldpack over my incision. Day Seven: I ventured out of the house alone. That is, hubby dropped me off at the café then I got to sit and visit with a friend in the beautiful sun and fresh air. Another recovery milestone. And I continued to move more and more quickly – but still slow as hell. I ran out of Tylenol so I thought that was a good sign that I should try not taking it anymore either.

I cooked! I cooked! This is the "Roasted Veggie Feast" from the Everyday Vegan, the first phase of "You Are My Sunshine Pie," my personal invention. Recipe & post possibly (you never know with me) coming soon!

Day Eight: Not even taking Tylenol anymore at this point. On the way to the doctor’s office, I realized I could sing again! Belted out some Frozen songs with Lu. When I sang, “Let it Go!” I thought about my uterus and I laughed and laughed and laughed. Incision check? All is very well. So well, in fact, that hubby thought it was time to start leaving me alone with kids. Let’s just say, there wasn’t great restriction placed on video games or TV and the kitchen looked less than stellar by the time he got home. Actually for an hour or two somewhere there in the middle of the day, I did get time to hang out with another friend and talk. One of my top 5 favorite activities. Day Nine: Took a 10 minute walk as soon as I got up!!! Feeling strong today. Though I’ve written once in these last nine days when I had gotten a great night’s sleep and my computer was close at hand in the morning before everyone else woke, today is my first official “writing time.” Sitter and all. Our new sitter came to stay with Lucy (Estlin is at a full-day camp this week) while Tim and I are working outside at the café – and, finally! It’s summer in Michigan! My goal for today (though I’m still trying hard to not make goals) was to write – and it really happened! Hope you’re cooking and eating with love, everyone! Namaste & Vaya Con Dios! Your QP